


In which Sam Expresses Himself with Black Slime

by bizzylizzy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Ectoplasm, Gen, brothers being brothers, tuberculosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:46:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bizzylizzy/pseuds/bizzylizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghost hunting has numerous dangers, but Sam and Dean haven't seen this one before. Walk it off Sam, you'll be fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Sam Expresses Himself with Black Slime

**Author's Note:**

> First Supernatural fic ever, so this is mostly playing with characterization. Any comments on that would be welcome, though this is comedy, so they might be a little exaggerated.

"They gave you ghost TB? How the hell does that even work?"

"I have no idea, Dean." Sam would have been more indignant, but the feeling of suffocation had yet to be overcome. When he felt like he couldn’t get enough air to breath, smarting off at his brother took second place.

"You said that place had been shut down for decades. How did you get TB?" Dean asked, manhandling the Impala around another corner. It didn't even slide. “Germs die, don’t they?”

"Obviously I don't have the actual infection, but I've been coughing and feverish since we left..." Sam coughed to prove his point. "It's probably a ghost's curse or something."

"You've got a cold. Damn, Sam, you're always overreacting to things like this. I think I've got ebola, or pneumonia..."

"I did have pneumonia."

"I still think you would have gotten better on your own," Dean shrugged. Dean, the man who never got sick. He rarely even got food poisoning, and he healed almost twice as fast as Sam did. He often didn’t understand the severity of normal people’s injuries or illnesses. (Oh, she had a stroke? She’ll be fine.) Sam gave his brother a very lengthy stare.

"I am amazed I didn't die while you were taking care of me."

"Come on, I took great care of you! It's not like I could have taken you to the doctor without dad anyway."

Sam grimaced and coughed again. Despite his words, Dean eyed Sam warily, as if he might cough up something important or stop breathing, since he had brought up the pneumonia incident...

"Would you just call Bobby and see if he knows what to do about this? Please?" Sam rasped.

"Why can't you call him? You're the one with 'ghost TB'." Dean pointed out.

"The more I talk the more I cough," Sam muttered, slumping down in his seat.

"Yeah? You seem to be talking pretty well to me," Dean returned, but he reached for his cell. "I still think you just caught a cold. Poor ickle Sammie..."

Sam started coughing again. Dean watched, unconcerned now. Sam had been coughing on and off since they'd left the haunted Sanitorium. The only difference this time was the wet 'splat' that followed. Sam pulled his hand away from his mouth, and Dean slowed the car down to get a better look.

"Dude...did you just cough up ectoplasm? _Seriously?_ Where did it even come from?"

"Dammit Dean! Call Bobby!" Sam started coughing again, expelling another goblet of  
ectoplasm.

"That stuff smells rancid!"

"Yeah, well how do you think is tastes? Call Bobby!"

"Keep your pants on, TB boy. You’d better not cough any of that up on my car!---yeah, Bobby? Sammie here is coughing up ectoplasm....."


End file.
